Pennys Promiscuity Ch 30 32

Chapter Thirty

"That's' disgusting!"

The revulsion in my daughter Isobel's phone-crackled voice would have been comical if my news hadn't been so serious. Having made the decision to come clean and let the world know about my pregnancy, I had steeled myself to make the first confessional call to the person I believed was most likely to react badly.

I had called several times during that Sunday in July, exactly a week after Pete and I had returned home from our Manchester adventure, without success. It had been late in the evening before I finally reached her; now I wondered whether it had been a good idea after all.

"That's a horrible thing to say," I protested angrily. "It's a natural process."

"I'm sorry Mum," she backed off quickly. "But for a woman in her fifties to be pregnant..."

She couldn't find the words to finish her sentence.

"I'm only just in my fifties," I protested. "And I know it's unusual..." I began.

"You can say that again."

"I know it's unusual," I repeated doggedly. "And it wasn't planned..."

"I should hope not."

"But your Dad and I are determined to see it through. If nature allows."

"How the Hell did it happen?" she asked, still astonished.

"The same way it happened when you thought you were pregnant, I imagine," I replied sarcastically. "Though in my case not on camera."

That was a cruel dig; my daughter's current single status was the direct result of the circulation of a video of her and a previous boyfriend having sex. That relationship had come to an abrupt end when Izzy had publicly cheated on him after a University ball. She had tried to form a relationship with her seducer but he lived hours away and had himself dumped her as soon as the video file had dropped into his inbox.

It was particularly unfair of me to use this against my daughter because another video existed; one of me being fucked by a lover too but only my husband and I knew this.

Anyway, Izzy's hypocrisy deserved some punishment.

To her credit, she immediately backtracked and her tone became more conciliatory.

"Why couldn't you be grumpy and menopausal like everyone else's Mum?" she asked in an exasperated voice.

"I don't know but I'm not. Your Grandma was the same," I told her in as close to a normal voice as I could manage. "Her menopause came very late indeed. I'm sorry to disappoint you; it's supposed to be a good thing."

There was a pause in which Izzy seemed to be rationalising all I had said.

"When are you due?" she asked quietly.

"December."

"Not at Christmas, please!"

"Only if she's late."

"She? You know it's a girl?"

"We're pretty sure but you can never be certain."

There was a long pause. I sipped my coffee.

"Just a minute!" she said, puzzled. "I thought Dad had the snip years ago?"

I had wondered if my daughter knew about this and if so, how long it would take for her to make the connection. She had been very quick off the mark even for her. Fortunately, Pete and I had prepared our response but this was the first time either of us had used it.

"It must have failed," I frowned, my own face beginning to glow pink. "They do sometimes, especially those done a long time ago.

Izzy snorted but seemed to accept this unsubstantiated statement as a simple fact. Our medical friends would not be so easy to convince.

"So, I'm going to be Auntie Isobel by Christmas," she stated dully.

"No Izzy," I said slowly and clearly. "You're going to have a baby sister."

"Oh God," she said in unconscious repetition of her new soubriquet. "Thanks a bunch, Mum!"

There was no adequate response to this so I remained silent. There was a long pause.

"How long have you known about it?" Izzy eventually asked after she had drawn a deep breath.

"Quite a while," I said ambiguously.

In fact, it was in trying to deal with my daughter's own pregnancy scare several months ago that my own condition had been accidentally revealed, but I didn't want her to know this.

"And you didn't think to tell us?" she demanded.

"I thought it would come to an end of its own accord," I told her. "As you said so brutally, I'm in my fifties. If it did end naturally then nobody ever needed to know. You're the first person I've called with the news."

"So why are you telling me now? What's changed?" she asked.

"I'm past the danger zone," I replied honestly. "From now on it's more likely that the baby will be born than I'll lose it."

"I suppose," Izzy replied vaguely. "How does Dad feel about it?"

"He's a bit anxious just like I am."

"I'll bet he is!"

"But," I persisted. "He's okay about it overall."

"Huh!" she snorted again.

"Besides, by the time we come back from holiday you'll be able to tell. I'm already showing a bit and my tummy will be too big to hide by then."

"Oh God Mum!" she exclaimed in exasperation. "My own mother with a baby bump!"

"Don't get too self-righteous, Isobel Barker," I scolded. "It could easily have been you, remember?"

***

Since my husband Pete and I had decided to let my unplanned pregnancy go as far as nature allowed, I had been dreading this conversation more than any other and had put it off as long as I possibly could. Now, in mid-July and with the curvature of my belly so obvious that even my self-obsessed daughter couldn't miss it, I had decided to bite the bullet and tell her on my own terms.

As Izzy was still at University at least four hours' drive away, those terms involved a telephone conversation rather than the face-to-face heart-to-heart we would usually have had.

Isobel, the youngest of our three children; our rather unjustifiably self-righteous twenty-year-old daughter did not know that the baby growing in my belly was in fact only her half-sister. She did not know that her mother had actually been knocked up during a one-night stand with Darren, the twenty-nine-year-old Personal Trainer at our sports club and ex-lover of my closest friend Julie. But I knew that this lack of knowledge would not stop her adopting the outraged tone I had just encountered.

Izzy was also unaware of my affair with Tony, her best friend's father and one of our closest family friends. It had started early the previous November and, although now definitely over, had been the catalyst from which all our current troubles dated.

Tony had seduced me one Friday afternoon after he and I had unexpectedly met on the train coming home from London. I had been writing one of my erotic stories at the time, one in which he featured as a model for the lead character, so I was already in a state of considerable arousal when he sat down in the seat opposite me.

After ninety minutes of talk and two large glasses of wine, he had driven me home from the station. In my confused state I had failed to remove his hands from my bottom as he gave me his usual 'farewell fondle' and the rest was now history.

Tony had taken immediate advantage of the unexpected opportunity and, in a blitzkrieg of moves so rapid and professionally executed that I didn't realise what was happening, had proceeded to seduce me in the hallway, strip me in the lounge, fuck me on the carpet and inseminate me copiously, all within no more than ten minutes.

I had then lost my mind as well as my morals and embarked on a passionate affair with him. After a month of meeting in secret I had confessed my infidelity to my husband in a fit of guilt one night. Although Pete had been urging me to take a lover for several years, it was still a shock for him to learn that I had finally done what he had said he wanted and had been sleeping with a close friend for a full month.

The shock nearly ended our marriage on the spot but to his credit and my surprise, Pete eventually agreed that the affair could continue subject to a few conditions.

I of course, broke all of those conditions, falling madly in love with Tony, seeing him in secret, planning to leave Pete for him and lying to my husband freely until the inevitable happened; I was caught out.

The painful scene that followed resulted in my husband and I temporarily separating.

It was during this brief separation that I had become pregnant.

Against all the odds, conception had occurred during a tipsy, one-night stand with the young man in his dirty, rumpled bed in his squalid, untidy bedroom in the house he shared with his friend and work colleague Will. Darren had inseminated me at least four times during the full night we had spent together, delivering the best sex I had known in my life up till then.

Protection of any kind hadn't occurred to me; if it had occurred to Darren, he had ignored it.

A few weeks later, Isobel had arrived home believing that she might be pregnant by her ex-boyfriend so we had performed several home tests. Purely by accident, these had revealed that although my daughter wasn't pregnant, I was!

For several months Pete and I had vacillated about what to do. With our lifelong commitments to medicine, neither of us believed in abortion but for a long time that seemed the only possible solution. It was only when we saw the baby moving during an ultrasound scan that we both said out loud that which we had only been thinking; that the only option either of us would accept was to let my pregnancy continue as long as nature intended.

Given my age, statistically this would not be long. Of course, nature being the fickle, capricious creature she is, statistics meant nothing. My pregnancy was going very smoothly, my baby was healthy and it looked like Pete and I would be having a fourth child at the age of fifty-two.

It had taken a full week after our first true Hot Wife -- Cuckold weekend for my husband and I to decide that going public about our impending fourth attempt at parenthood was now the only option. In truth it had taken all that time for my mind to tune in to reality generally, it and my body having been taken to a new and bewildering plane of physical pleasure by Adam, the male half of an attractive escort couple in Manchester.

Fulfilling his deepest fantasy at last, Pete had watched as I, his pregnant wife of over twenty-five years had been fucked in every position I had imagined and several that had never crossed my mind. He had seen me reach orgasm many times, heard me yell, scream, beg to be impregnated and even profess love for the stranger to whose cock I had become temporarily enslaved.

He had even watched as for the first time in my life, I had first endured then whole-heartedly enjoyed having anal sex.

Now, a week later, the hickeys my lover had deliberately left on my neck and boob had faded almost to nothing, the post-coital, post-orgasmic euphoria was only a very pleasant memory and it was time to face reality again.

In this case, the reality involved letting first my family then work, then our friends know that against all probability, I was about to become a mother again.

At that moment, the terrors of having another baby were far less daunting than the reactions I had just received and expected to receive over the next few weeks.

***

"How did she take it?" Pete asked as I joined him in bed a little later that evening.

"Better than I thought she might."

"Are you going to tell the boys?"

"I won't need to. Izzy will have told them both by morning."

He took a deep breath.

"So, now the cat's officially out of the bag. We'd better think who else to tell and when. Better get our story together now."

"I suppose so," I agreed without enthusiasm. "There are going to be a few raised eyebrows around here!"

Pete rolled towards me and planted a kiss on my nose.

"We can handle it," he smiled. "If we stick together and stick to our story, we'll be okay."

My heart swelled with love; sometimes I genuinely believed I did not deserve to have a husband like Pete. Few men would even contemplate staying with a cheating wife who was pregnant by another man. Fewer still would agree to bring up that child as their own.

Pete moved closer, the look on his face changing as it so often did from one of love to one of lust, his hand beginning to stroke the small but distinctive swell of my belly then rising to my boobs where he caressed their swollen globes gently through my night dress.

"Careful," I winced. "They're a bit sore!"

"Sorry Pen! They're definitely bigger though," he smiled admiringly.

"You prefer them bigger?"

"It makes a nice change," he grinned.

It did indeed make a change; my boobs had been so tiny throughout my life that most of the time I hadn't needed to wear a bra other than in the gym or when, like now, I had been pregnant. Even then, the best I had managed was to partly fill a B cup.

Sadly, even the smallest boobs can sag so as age and gravity had taken their toll, some ongoing support had become a necessity. Those days I wore bras most of the time.

Pete's hand moved from my globes to my nipples. They had become larger, darker and much more sensitive but my husband's touch was light and the pleasure was very noticeable.

I sighed as the man I loved caressed my boobs then slipped his hand downwards towards the re-grown, greying triangle at my groin. There was no mistaking what he wanted; I would not even try to resist. A moment later I felt the hem of my night dress being raised beneath the duvet and the touch of warm fingers on my bared belly.

"Does it feel like his baby?" Pete asked quietly as he stroked the gradually-stretching skin of my bump.

"I'm not sure. It certainly feels different," I answered.

"Different from any of my kids?"

"It's too long ago to remember exactly," I smiled as his fingers began to toy with the tight curls of my pubic hair. "But it's definitely not the same."

"I wonder if you feel different too," he pondered with a cheeky grin.

"Different where?" I asked, knowing full well what my husband meant.

"Inside, of course," he frowned.

I sighed a mock-sigh.

"I suppose there's only one way to find out."

Pete's body rose on his strong arms; my legs parted willingly as he mounted me, his coarse hairy thighs pressing against the soft inside of mine.

"No foreplay tonight?" I joked.

"You can have as much after play as you want," Pete smiled as he rubbed the tip of his erect cock up and down my slit. "But right now, you're going to be fucked by your husband. Christ, you're wet tonight Penn."

"I seem to be like that all the time these days," I confessed. "I'm getting through a lot of knickers."

That was indeed the truth. I had been an easy lay for Pete throughout all but the last weeks of my pregnancy with Isobel but this time round, I seemed to be semi-aroused all the time. Carrying spare panties in my handbag had been obligatory for weeks.

"I love it when you talk dirty," Pete grinned, finding his target between my thighs.

I shivered in anticipation as I felt my puffy lips being carefully parted and the smooth rounded end of his long, slender cock began to enter my vagina.

"Perhaps we should keep you knocked-up all the time," he hissed as he slipped easily into my welcoming body.

"Barefoot and pregnant?" I suggested, feeling my vagina encircling his long, thin shaft.

"Pregnant maybe; barefoot absolutely not!" he grinned cheekily, wriggling his hips to ease his way into my welcoming body. "I prefer the finer things in life!"

I smiled up at my handsome husband as he sank the last few inches into my unresisting body. His pubic hair ground roughly against the freshly-regrown covering on my mound. He paused for a moment, our eyes on each other's. There was a look of love and something close to adoration on his face that made my heart ache.

For a few seconds the thought that I did not deserve this amazing man filled my mind, but then Pete slowly pulled back and began to thrust in and out of my vagina in slow, easy, unhurried strokes and all my attention became focussed between my thighs.

Though pregnancy had undoubtedly heightened my sensitivity, I knew from the beginning that for me, this copulation would not end in orgasm. There would be no climax on Pete's cock that night but that didn't mean there wasn't a great deal of closeness and pleasure to be had while trying.

I stroked his well-defined shoulders and arms as the man I loved and had borne three children made love to me, the woman who had sworn to be faithful only to him but who was now carrying the child of another man. I looked up into the reassuring, familiar features of his handsome, lined face and at the short greying hair surrounding it as his hips slapped rhythmically against my inner thighs.

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!

Since giving birth to our three children, my vagina had become much looser. I had torn badly when Isobel was born which had made the situation even worse. Pete's cock was long and slim so for many years it had been difficult to create enough tightness in the right places no matter how assiduously I worked on my pelvic floor exercises.

Until the previous November, my vagina had known only that one penis for over twenty-five years. Though there had been a few close calls during that time, none had resulted in full scale infidelity. However, in the nine months since I was finally seduced by Tony, the number of men who had fucked me had risen to five.

All had been different; all had been exciting; all had provided the orgasms that my husband and I between us had failed to deliver. One had provided what to this day remains the most intense sexual experience of my life.

At the same time, Pete had spent one single night in bed with one other woman. That woman, my closest female friend, had hinted strongly that his performance in her bed had been impressive. If that wasn't bad enough, she had even compared him favourably to her erstwhile lover Darren, the twenty-nine-year-old personal trainer who had seduced me and gone on to father the child now growing in my belly.

I tightened down as hard as I could, closing my eyes and clamping down on my husband's shaft as tightly as my baby-stretched muscles would allow.

"That's great Penn!" Pete smiled broadly, his thrusting quickening.

I held the tension as long as I could, released it for a second then tightened again.

"Wow that feels good," came the pleasing response.

I tightened hard again, then tilted my pelvis forwards, pressing my clitoris against my husband's fast-moving shaft as it stimulated my vagina in new and exciting places.

"Mmm! Do that again!" Pete growled.

I tightened hard once more; my arousal surged, bringing tingles of pleasure to my loins but still not enough to reach orgasm. I resigned myself to this fact and concentrated on gaining as much pleasure as possible from the remaining moments of our liaison.

There weren't many moments in which to do this. As had happened before, the unfamiliar tightness of my vagina was brining my husband to climax very quickly indeed.

'Slap-slap-slap-slap!'

Pete's rhythm grew faster and faster though his thrusts were still controlled for fear of pummelling the baby whose head was merely millimetres from the head of Pete's cock as he bottomed out inside me.

'Slap-slap-slap-slap!'

As it had for the last few weeks, his caution, though no doubt wise, was preventing both of us from enjoying our copulations as much as we wanted and needed. Add to that the recent, feral memories of our first and only night with Adam and Eve, the Manchester escort couple and you had a recipe for bedroom disappointment.

"One more time Penn!" Pete croaked as his strokes became rapid and erratic.

I tightened down one last time as hard as I could, raking his shoulders with my fingernails and wrapping my legs around his strong thighs.

"Yes! Yes! YESSS!"

And then he began to cum. With the tip of his cock barely an inch away from the inverted head of my illegitimate baby, my husband began to fill his unfaithful wife's vagina with semen.